CHAPTER II.
When the time for Miss Woodley's departure arrived, Miss Milnerentreated earnestly to accompany her home, and made the most solemnpromises that she would guard not only her behaviour, but her verythoughts, within the limitation her friend should prescribe. MissWoodley at length yielded thus far, "That as soon as Lord Elmwood wasset out on his journey to Italy, where she had heard him say that heshould soon be obliged to go, she would no longer deny her the pleasureof returning; and if (after the long absence which must consequentlytake place between him and her) she could positively affirm thesuppression of her passion was the happy result, she would then take herword, and risk the danger of seeing them once more reside together."
This concession having been obtained, they parted; and as winter was nowfar advanced, Miss Woodley returned to her aunt's house in town, fromwhence Mrs. Horton was, however, preparing to remove, in order tosuperintend Lord Elmwood's house, (which had been occupied by the lateEarl,) in Grosvenor Square; and her niece was to accompany her.
If Lord Elmwood was not desirous Miss Milner should conclude her visitand return to his protection, it was partly from the multiplicity ofaffairs in which he was at this time engaged, and partly from having Mr.Sandford now entirely placed with him as his chaplain; for he dreaded,that living in the same house, their natural antipathy might beincreased even to aversion. Upon this account, he once thought ofadvising Mr. Sandford to take up his abode elsewhere; but the greatpleasure he took in his society, joined to the bitter mortification heknew such a proposal would be to his friend, would not suffer him tomake it.
Miss Milner all this time was not thinking upon those she hated, but onthose she loved. Sandford never came into her thoughts, while the imageof Lord Elmwood never left them. One morning, as she sat talking to LadyLuneham on various subjects, but thinking alone on him, Sir HarryLuneham, with another gentleman, a Mr. Fleetmond, came in, and theconversation turned upon the improbability, during the present LordElmwood's youth, that he should ever inherit the title and estate whichhad now fallen to him--and, said Mr. Fleetmond, "Independent of rank andfortune, it must be matter of infinite joy to Mr. Dorriforth."
"No," answered Sir Harry, "independent of rank and fortune, it must be amotive of concern to him; for he must now regret, beyond measure, hisfolly in taking priest's orders, thus depriving himself of the hopes ofan heir, so that his title, at his death, will be lost."
"By no means," replied Mr. Fleetmond; "he may yet have an heir, for hewill certainly marry."
"Marry!" cried the Baronet.
"Yes," answered the other, "it was that I meant by the joy it mightprobably give him, beyond the possession of his estate and title."
"How he married?" said Lady Luneham, "Has he not taken a vow never tomarry?"
"Yes," answered Mr. Fleetmond, "but there are no _religious_ vows, fromwhich the sovereign Pontiff at Rome cannot grant a dispensation, asthose commandments which are made by the church, the church has alwaysthe power to revoke; and when it is for the general good of religion,his Holiness thinks it incumbent on him, to publish his bull, and remitall penalties for their non-observance; and certainly it is for thehonour of the Catholics, that this Earldom should continue in a Catholicfamily. In short, I'll venture to lay a wager, my Lord Elmwood ismarried within a year."
Miss Milner, who listened with attention, feared she was in a dream, ordeceived by the pretended knowledge of Mr. Fleetmond, who might knownothing--yet all that he had said was very probable; and he was himself aRoman Catholic, so that he must be well informed on the subject uponwhich he spoke. If she had heard the direst news that ever sounded inthe ears of the most susceptible of mortals, the agitation of her mindand person could not have been stronger--she felt, while every word wasspeaking, a chill through all her veins--a pleasure too exquisite, not tobear along with it the sensation of exquisite pain; of which she was sosensible, that for a few moments it made her wish that she had not heardthe intelligence; though, very soon after, she would not but have heardit for the world.
As soon as she had recovered from her first astonishment and joy, shewrote to Miss Woodley an exact account of what she had heard, andreceived this answer:
"I am sorry any body should have given you this piece of information,because it was a task, in executing which, I had promised myself extremesatisfaction--but from the fear that your health was not yet strongenough to support, without some danger, the burthen of hopes which Iknew would, upon this occasion, press upon you, I deferred mycommunication and it has been anticipated. Yet, as you seem in doubt asto the reality of what you have been told, perhaps this confirmation ofit may fall very little short of the first news; especially when it isenforced by my request, that you will come to us, as soon as you canwith propriety leave Lady Luneham.
"Come, my dear Miss Milner, and find in your once rigid monitor afaithful confidante. I will no longer threaten to disclose a secret youhave trusted me with, but leave it to the wisdom, or sensibility of_his_ heart, (who is now to penetrate into the hearts of our sex, insearch of one that may beat in unison with his own) to find it out. I nolonger condemn, but congratulate you on your passion; and will assistyou with all my advice and my earnest wishes, that it may obtain areturn."
This letter was another of those excruciating pleasures, that almostreduced Miss Milner to the grave. Her appetite forsook her; and shevainly endeavoured, for several nights, to close her eyes. She thoughtso much upon the prospect of accomplishing her wishes, that she couldadmit no other idea; nor even invent one probable excuse for leavingLady Luneham before the appointed time, which was then at the distanceof two months. She wrote to Miss Woodley to beg her contrivance, toreproach her for keeping the secret so long from her, and to thank herfor having revealed it in so kind a manner at last. She begged also tobe acquainted how Mr. Dorriforth (for still she called him by that name)spoke and thought of this sudden change in his destiny.
Miss Woodley's reply was a summons for her to town upon some pretendedbusiness, which she avoided explaining, but which entirely silenced LadyLuneham's entreaties for her stay.
To her question concerning Lord Elmwood she answered, "It is a subjecton which he seldom speaks--he appears just the same he ever did, norcould you by any part of his conduct, conceive that any such change hadtaken place." Miss Milner exclaimed to herself, "I am glad he is notaltered--if his words, looks, or manners, were any thing different fromwhat they formerly were, I should not like him so well." And just thereverse would have been the case, had Miss Woodley sent her word he waschanged. The day for her leaving Bath was fixed; she expected it withrapture, but before its arrival, sunk under the care of expectation; andwhen it came, was so much indisposed, as to be obliged to defer herjourney for a week.
At length she found herself in London--in the house of her guardian--andthat guardian no longer bound to a single life, but _enjoined_ to marry.He appeared in her eyes, as in Miss Woodley's, the same as ever; orperhaps more endearing than ever, as it was the first time she hadbeheld him with hope. Mr. Sandford did _not_ appear the same; yet he wasin reality as surly and as disrespectful in his behaviour to her asusual; but she did not observe, or she did not feel his morose temper asheretofore--he seemed amiable, mild, and gentle; at least this was thehappy medium through which her self-complacent mind began to see him;for good humour, like the jaundice, makes every one of its owncomplexion.